


So We Meet Again...

by mother_finch



Series: My Therapist Said... [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Your fics are incredible! Is there any chance you could do a fic where Root and Shaw go to a bar after a mission and bump into Mia again, with Root being all jealous and possessive? I find jealous Root to be so adorable and you write her so well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We Meet Again...

“Is this how you take me on a date?” Root Groves asks, stepping through the bar door Sameen Shaw holds open. Shaw rolls her eyes, following Root in and letting the glass plated door slam behind her. In the sound of the bar, it barely makes a noise.

“ _No_ , it’s how I’ll  _hopefully_  get you to shut up,” Shaw responds, although there is the slightest hint of good nature trimming her words.

“Unlucky for  _you_ ,” Root says, leaning into Shaw to beat the noise of the bar, “but the more I drink, the more I  _talk_.” Shaw closes her eyes, groaning internally.  _She always finds some way of getting under my skin_ \- even more so since their whole couple’s counseling incident.

What could have escalated to something was put on halt, as the numbers poured in like waterfalls and their down time was shaved incredibly thin. Still, Root always seemed to find a way in, squeezing by just enough to fluster Shaw before slipping back out.

* * *

 

_Take the day’s number, for example_. A charming man who wears only designer suits and brand name sunglasses. With a chiseled jaw and a more than perfect lick of hair curling at his forehead, the last thing Shaw took him to be was a notorious hacker. Alas, as you can’t judge a book by its cover, this man was a mystery- one Root and Shaw were determined to crack.

And so, as Shaw kept the building’s guard occupied, Root dashed for the number’s office, fingers flying across the keyboard as she worked without a second to spare. But with Root, there was always a second to spare.

_‘How’s it hanging, Sameen?’ Root cooed over their ear pieces, as if they weren’t on a strict time limit in a highly secured building._

_‘Not the time,’ she spit back under her breath, false smile still on her face as she talked amiably to the guard. From across the line, Shaw could hear Root’s disapproving tut._

_‘There’s always time to talk to_ you _,’ Root responded, affection oozing from her every word. Shaw could feel the heat rising to her ears, and did all she could to hide it from the guard._

 _‘Not when we have to be out of here in the next_ fifty-two seconds _,’ Shaw reminded her, greeted with a laugh that sent a thrill racing down Shaw’s spine._

 _‘The best work takes_ time _,’ Root responded, voice shifting dangerously. However, Shaw couldn’t help the humored smirk that lit in her eyes._

 _‘And how would_ you _know what the_ best _work takes?’ Shaw asked, words biting with the low rumble of Shaw’s concealed laughter. Root chuckled too, and Shaw felt her chest tighten the slightest bit._

_‘Experience,’ Root replied, and suddenly, Shaw had a feeling they weren’t talking about computers any longer. Coughing, Shaw shook her head, snapping out of an almost daze-like state, and listening for the first time to what the guard had to say._

_‘…so yeah, that’s why I don’t get many visitors down here. You okay?’ Shaw looked over his boyish face and chubby frame, taking in the white and blue security uniform he wore. She couldn’t help but notice how out of place the gun looked on this man, and wondered how someone so trusting of anyone could have been hired to trust no one at all._

_‘Uh, interesting,’ Shaw responded to him. ‘I’m gonna get some air.’ Her words rattled off like machine gun fire, and before the guard had even a moment to protest, Shaw was stalking down the polished hall, black heels clicking against the marble floor and bare legs freezing. As she straightened a shoulder strap to her short, black dress, the elevator door opened, Root stepping out and fluidly walking by her side. Shaw took in the fake glasses she wore, and her usually free hair tied up in a bun, and felt something spasming in her chest._

_They walked in silence, neither acknowledging the other’s presence, but both blinded by it nonetheless, until they finally exited the building. The sun seemed to melt their disguises, both returning to their normal selves._

_‘You get it?’ Shaw asked, peering over Root’s way. She was greeted by Root sliding the glasses from her face, hand coming to her bun and yanking it out. At once, a halo of brown and copper swirls drifted down around Root’s face. Shaw found herself awed and entranced, unable to say a word or tear her eyes away. Root noticed, and smiled gleefully for doing so._

_As they continued down the street, Root pulled a thumb-drive out of her pocket, holding it eye level to Shaw before giving her a wicked smirk._

_‘Still too dorky for your taste?’ Root asked, eyes prying at Shaw’s clothes as she looked her over. At hearing the words, a bomb exploded within Sameen._

Still, even now as they enter the bar three hours later, her muscles are burning and her bones are rattled. Root hadn’t forgotten a single thing Shaw said during their couple’s session with Dr. Venus a month before, and Shaw doubted she ever would. She couldn’t blame Root, though, for she remembers everything just as clearly.

Like how Root told her she loved her similes. As stupid as it sounded, and as stupid as it made Shaw feel inside, it somehow spreads a warmth throughout Shaw’s chest each time she thinks about it. Shaw had said her own list of five things she found-  _yes_ \- lovable about Root.  _It wasn’t my idea,_  Shaw thinks to herself angrily, remembering the counselor and his odd assortment of requests. From the things they couldn’t stand about one another, to the things they enjoyed. How they met, how the marriage was going and… sex. Which, no matter how fabricated the cover was, Shaw refused to elaborate on.

 _On the bright side, I got to shoot some guys,_ she remembers with an inner smile. Soon, it turns to a smirk.  _And I made Root pretty jealous in the process._ As much fun as she would never admit the cover was, one thing hadn’t stopped nagging her since that day.

_What is Root’s fifth thing?_

They both needed to come up with five; however- just as Root began- gunfire littered the air, and the women were set to their work. The only assurance Shaw had received was that Root would tell her later.  _But how much later is ‘later’?_ Part of her thinks Root has forgotten, but all of her knows she can’t press the matter. If she so much as dared, it would send Root over the top with ideas that Shaw has feelings for her. And, as true as that might be, there is no way in Hell Shaw wants her to know it.  _Not yet, anyway._

So, she lets it eat at her. Every spare moment of every spare hour. Every day. Every time Root brings it up in discussion. Every time Root does something, something Shaw hadn’t even told her, that is secretly on her list of things. Everything Root does that Shaw loves about her leaves her wondering what Root loves. It’s maddening to say the least.

“Can I help you two with something to drink?” The bartender asks, his slim, young face breaking through Shaw’s wall of thoughts. She looks briefly to the chalkboard menu behind him, but her eyes don’t focus on any drink for too long.

“Just give me one of whatever she gets,” Shaw tells him at last, and he moves over to Root, who orders some concoction that sounds more like a latin riddle than a drink. Shaw places her hands atop the bar, sitting back in her stool as she looks around the place. It’s low lit, the people all talking in inside voices with rock playing softly in the background and glasses clinking all around. As Shaw leaves her fingers to tap against the polished wood of the bar, she takes in the more rowdy clusters of people that sit in the lounge chairs further back in the bar, and the few waitresses that bring them their drinks.

Before Shaw has time to register, a warm hand encircles her own, slender fingers curling around her toughened palm and pulling it in. Shaw’s attention snaps instantly back to the table, where she finds her hand being tugged to the left by someone with familiar black nail polish.

Everything within Shaw screams for her to rip her hand back, to bristle with hostility and bear her notorious fangs. Instead, she allows it all to happen, watching in something of a daze as her hand is pulled before Root. A constant electric current shoots through Shaw’s fingertips, surging to the center of her hand before zapping along the veins of her arm and electrifying her heart. It starts to beat faster as the volts give it a racing charge. She watches, somewhere between mortification and death, as Root brings her other hand to Shaw’s as well, fingers dancing along her skin.

“What are you doing,” Shaw asks, voice sounding gruff in her ears as butterflies begin their course through her stomach. A couple become lodged in her throat, but she is unable to muster the effort of coughing them out.

Root pays no mind, merely running her fingers along Shaw’s palm with one hand, the other holding Shaw’s hand in place. Each time on of Root’s fingertips touch down, there is pulse of sensation that rushes back to Shaw’s head.

“Root,” Shaw demands forcefully, using the last of her will on the name.  _Let go let go let go._

“You get this while we were out?” Root asks, holding Shaw’s hand up for her to see. Shaw peers at it a moment, uncomprehending, before she sees a grizzly slice snaking throughout the surface of her hand.  _That explains the sensation,_ Shaw thinks to herself, taking in the deep slash that five seconds ago she had no idea existed.

“Guess so,” Shaw replies, shrugging.

“It looks bad,” Root thinks aloud, turning Shaw’s hand over in her own two, checking for any other marks. Shaw can feel her lungs starting to collapse, and wonders where all her strength has drained to.

“I’ll pour my drink on it,” Shaw assures her, straining to keep the nonchalance in her voice. “Alcohol does wonders for open wounds.” Root gives an irritated glare at Shaw’s solution, then shakes her head, placing Shaw’s hand back down on the counter. They sit there a minute, both looking at Shaw’s hand, which is still held between Root’s. Finally, sense returns to Shaw, and anger boils her blood.

“Can I have it  _back_  now?” Shaw asks crossly, and Root looks up. Seeing Shaw’s furious eyes, a smirk grows on Root’s face; however, she doesn’t return Shaw’s hand. Fluster growing by the second, Shaw at last rips her hand away from Root, holding it as far away from Root as possible with murder in her eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Shaw,” Root coos humorously, lazy smile now hanging lopsided on her face. She leans in, eyes a mix of pleasure and attraction, as if she’s being pulled forward instead of just leaning that way. “You didn’t pull back right away.” Shaw leans in close, wicked smile on her tight lips, and she catches Root’s eyes flicker with nervous enjoyment.

“You’re just lucky I didn’t kick your  _ass_  for it,” Shaw growls back, then sits up straight.  _Where the Hell is this bartender?_  Shaw wonders, never needing a drink more in her life.

“I wouldn’t mind if you  _did_ ,” Root responds, just quiet enough for Shaw to question if she heard it at all. However, at seeing the smirk on Root’s face from the corner of her eye, she is more than certain.

From behind, someone bumps into Shaw’s back, throwing her forward into the counter.

“Sorry!” The voice squeaks out immediately, and Shaw rolls her neck in distaste.

“It’s fine,” Shaw mutters back, pushing herself back up.

“ _Sameen_?” The voice asks, taking Shaw off guard. Turning her head to the right with curiosity and caution, she sees a woman. Her hair is black as night, cut short but still long enough to frame her almond face elegantly. The woman’s dark eyes are open wide in minute disbelief, but- at seeing Shaw respond- a smile creeps onto her increasingly relaxing face. Shaw recognizes her at once, and based on how tense Root becomes at Shaw’s side, she does as well. The woman scoots onto the vacant stool beside Shaw, excitement sparking in her eyes.

“It’s me, from couples’ therapy, M-”

“Mia,” Shaw finishes for her, nodding slowly as the memory of her brings an amused half-smile to Shaw’s face. “I remember you.” Mia’s face lights up at the comment, and she slides in closer to Shaw’s side. From the corner of her eye, Shaw can make out Root’s face contorted in anger, and her smile grows. Suddenly, the night feels ready to become much more enjoyable.

_______\ If Your Number’s Up /_______

“ _I_  remember you,  _too_ ,” Root says, fake cheeriness easy to detect as she leans over the bar, making her presence known to the stunning Asian woman that has just joined them. The smile on her face feels like wearing sandpaper, and her eyes are as cold as ice. Mia’s eyes travel over to Root, and her smile instantly flattens.

“Oh, yeah, you’re…” Mia thinks a moment, lips pursing. “Amy, right?” Root narrows her eyes at the woman, jaw clenching tight.

“Root,” Root informs her.

“Close enough,” Mia responds with a shrug. Bringing her focus back to Shaw, she instantly revives in a flow of positive vibes and Bambi eyes. Root sits there a second, scrutinizing gaze boring holes into Mia’s head, when a thought hits her.  _In the world that she knows, we’re married._

“How are you, Sameen? We haven’t talked,” Mia says to her, pitiful notes in her voice as a slight pout comes to her lips.  _Oh please_ , Root thinks to herself angrily, _like that’ll work._

But it does.

“Better  _now_ ,” Shaw tells her, lips pressed together as she tries to conceal a smile, eyes flickering over Root barely long enough to get a good look. Root, however, sees it all, and it makes her fingers quiver in annoyance. “How about you? Need something?” Mia eyes Shaw over cleverly before responding.

“Now that you  _mention_  it,” Mia says, resting her elbows on the counter, eyes fixed dreamily on Shaw’s. “I could think of a  _few_  things.”

“ _Mm_ , subtle,” Root remarks sharply, rolling her eyes and looking away. Shaw’s back is almost entirely turned to Root, which only infuriates her further.

“I meant a drink,” Shaw responds to her, ignoring Root’s comment. “One thing at a time.”

“ _See_ ,” Root says with a smile, mouth close to Shaw’s ear, “now  _that_  was subtle.” From this close, Root can feel Shaw’s muscles tensing, and a flutter snakes its way into Root’s stomach. Shaw angles her head slightly Root’s way, eyes harsh and jaw taut.

“I will strangle you in your sleep,” Shaw threatens silently between clenched teeth, and Root barely suppresses a grin.

“ _That_? Not so much.”

Shaw shakes her head angrily, exhale an irritated huff as she spins herself back to the bar, folding her arms on it. Looking at her, Root feels a triumphant smile spreading across her face. It doesn’t last long.

“Drinks, drinks, drinks!” The bartender chimes happily, placing a margarita down before Shaw and Root. Root gives him a smile of thanks, all the while Mia starts up with Shaw yet again.

“Ooh, what  _is_  that?” She asks, eyes on the drink. Grabbing one in each of her hands, Shaw moves the drinks down the row, placing her’s before Mia and Root’s before herself.

“I dunno,” she replies with a shrug. “You tell me.” Mia gives Shaw a dashing smile, then raises the glass for Shaw to tap. And, as Root watches, Shaw does, adding a smile of her own to the mix.

“Um…” The bartender’s voice reaches Root uneasily. “Should I bring you another-”

“Yes,” Root replies stiffly, mouth a thin line and eyes ready to kill. After the glasses clink, Shaw turns her gaze on Root, looking her over as she sips her drink. Seeing the jealousy written on her face, she gives Root a quick wink. As much as it makes her heart flutter, it doesn’t help. Her mind reels, wondering how to keep Shaw as far from Mia’s grasp as possible, but she comes up virtually empty.

She clears her throat. “So,  _Mia_ ,” Root starts, kind words rimmed with spiteful frost. “Anything new?” Mia’s eyes narrow, not wanting to talk to Root in the slightest.

“I work as the secretary to a law firm now,” she tells Root, a better-than-you air taking over her quick paced voice. Eyes coming back to Shaw, they soften. “After, well, you  _know_ , you shot the Hell out of the other place.” Shaw looks back over to Mia, then puts her drink down, getting ready to respond; Root beats her to it.

“You  _seeing_  anyone?  _Dating_  anyone?” She presses. Mia’s lips turn up in a wicked smirk as her eyes flicker to Root fractionally.

“No,” she answers, this time to Shaw. “But I wouldn’t mind it.” Root can see plain as day where Mia is going with this, and doesn’t like it one bit.

“Well, you can start by finding someone who  _isn’t_  married,” Root informs her icily, placing a possessive hand on Shaw’s leg. She hears a soft chuckle escape Shaw’s lips, and her nails dig into Shaw’s leg angrily.

“I don’t see a  _ring_  anywhere,” Mia quips back, giving Root a look that says ‘ _Check and Mate_.’

“She has a  _point_ ,” Shaw agrees, which only sends fury flooding Root’s veins. If looks could kill, Root would be imprisoned for manslaughter.

“So then the two of you  _aren’t_  together?” Mia asks, a sickening amount of hope in her voice. The bartender drops off the drink, not sticking around for a tip in case punches are thrown. No one seems to notice.

“N-”

“None of your business,” Root responds, cutting Shaw’s answer off short. Mia pulls a disbelieving face, then simmers back down into a charming demeanor.

“If you aren’t,” Mia says, voice low for Shaw, but Root still leans in close enough to hear, “then this can turn out to be  _quite_  the party.”

“Oh,  _sorry_ ,” Root says, scrunching her nose in mock-sympathy, not at all catching the way Shaw’s eyes spark at the gesture. “But  _two_  is a party. Three’s just a crowd.” Root’s gaze is more than forceful, not hoping for Mia to get the hint but  _waiting_  for her to. Mia sits up a little straighter, cruelly amused.

“Then maybe you should be giving us some space?” Mia offers, and Root rolls her tongue across her teeth in furious annoyance.

 _And maybe I should be putting a bullet in your knee caps_.

“I don’t think  _I’m_  the one that needs to be moving,” Root responds, barely holding onto her tact as she responds. Moving her hand to Shaw’s shoulder, she leans in, letting Shaw look her in the eye. “Right, Sweetie?”

Shaw watches her a moment, eyes nothing more than humored masks hiding the truth.  _What’s behind them?_ Root can only imagine all the possibilities, and it makes her want to shriek. Shaw pulls her gaze away, looking over to Mia. There, she gives Mia a one over before speaking in a completely calm voice.

“Just give me a second,” she says, waiting for Mia’s go-ahead nod before turning back to Root.

Shaw leans over slowly, hand coming to the back of Root’s stool to keep balance as she brings her mouth terribly close to Root’s ear. Root, dropping her own hand, tries to contain herself, hotheadedness vanishing as trepidation washes over her.

“Jealous yet?” Shaw whispers wickedly to her, and Root’s anger begins to bob to the surface once again.

“Just a little  _annoyed_ ,” Root responds, eyes narrowing at the mere thought of Mia.

“With  _me_?” Shaw asks with mock surprise, then chuckles. The sound of her silent laugh this close is enough to send a shiver down Root’s spine.

“Yeah.”

“Good or bad?” Shaw asks, coupled with Root’s jaw clenching tight.

“Bad.”

“But I thought you said you said you  _loved_  all the things that annoyed you about me.” Root chokes as the words leave Shaw’s mouth, the wind knocked entirely from her and her head spins in circles. Her mind snaps instantly back to the couple’s therapy session, and the room suddenly feels too warm for comfort. “You still haven’t told me the last thing, you know.”

“Not planning on it,” Root responds, words crashing from her mouth in a tidal wave. She nearly forgets that she’s in a bar, and that Mia is two stools over, and that the world at all exists. In this moment, Shaw is the only thing that is real.

“That’s a  _real_  shame,” Shaw replies, and Root hears the slightest shake in her words, and knows it has to be her own imagination. “I’d pay good money to hear what you had to say.”

“If you- if you stop flirting with  _her_ , I’ll tell you right now.” The words leave Root before she even realizes they’re gone. Once she does, she wants nothing more than to be able to swallow them back up. Silence falls over the both of them, and before Root knows it, Shaw is pulling away, eyes locking onto Root’s seriously as she goes. Her eyes flicker to Root’s lips, then to the bartender, then she turns her head entirely.

“Everything okay?” Mia asks, voice as if it’s traveling through a blanket of cotton to Root, who feels numb all over.

“Everything’s  _wonderful_ ,” Shaw responds with a voice just as distant. As Root blinks a few times, feeling coming back to her body and nerves rebooting, she feels Shaw’s arm still around her back, fingers still wrapped around the edge of her seat.

_________\ We’ll Find You /_________

Shaw works on her second drink, listening to the background music and anything Mia has to say. She focuses in on the red color of the margarita, the mahogany of the counter, and the kaleidoscope of bottles that refract light from behind the bar. She focuses on anything but what her mind has been telling her to. Root’s last comment left her quite rattled, enough so that she couldn’t even spit back a snide retort. Every nerve in her body humming, Shaw merely moved away, stunned into submission.

_Would she really tell you? Why did you even bring it up in the first place?_

Shaw’s mind swirls with questions, some critical of herself and others open to wonder. After all this time waiting, the answer could be right there. Only inches away, but still a million miles off. She can’t decide what to do, nor how to go about it. So, she does nothing. Just drinks and talks and pretends nothing happened.

“I  _still_  never got to see your apartment,” Mia tells Shaw coyly, words strung together a little too close as she rocks slightly on her stool. There is a warm buzz radiating from her, warm enough to loosen her tongue a lot more than ever before- much to Root’s distaste.

Thinking about Root and how riled Mia makes her, Shaw can’t help but smirk. This flirting was fun- a way to get under Root’s skin like Root could do to her so often. Seeing the pure, concentrated jealousy in Root’s eyes is like cocaine, and feeling Root’s possessive touch on her skin her own brand of heroine. Absolutely addicting.

Not that she would ever admit that, though. No, instead, she would rather let Root believe she is merely being cynical than to let her know she sort of likes the attention.

“Still  _want_  to?” Shaw asks her, and Mia’s grin meets her ears. She leans in towards Shaw, folded arms barely supporting her as she places her weight on the bar, head tilted down as she looks to Shaw with suggestive eyes. Shaw can feel Root tensing at her side, and her eyes spark with amusement. Taking her hand from the back of Root’s chair, Shaw folds her own arms, mimicking Mia as she seats herself the same way. Eyes locked; inches apart.

“I don’t even think that’s a question,” Mia responds, her voice a purr as her eyes travel over Shaw’s face. Shaw smirks.

“Me neither.”

Shaw feels a set of hands on either of her shoulders from behind, and a moment later the pressure of them grows as Root leans in. The heat of Root’s breath is on Shaw’s neck, and her heart begins to beat harder against her ribcage. Root’s fingers dig in to Shaw’s shoulders hard, and Root’s mouth is so close to Shaw’s ear that her lips brush against it as she speaks.

“Your temper,” Root breathes out, and Shaw instantly freezes. Her eyes widen fractionally, jaw going slack behind closed lips, and she stops breathing entirely. All too soon, Root’s presence escapes her, leaving Shaw bone-chillingly cold in the places where she was. Those two words swim in Shaw’s mind, consuming every corner of her head and rendering her speechless.

_Your temper._

As it registers slowly, Shaw draws in a stunned breath, eyes scanning back in forth as they focus on something only she can see. She blinks, then snaps back to character. Shaw rolls her jaw in a small circle, sitting back up in her chair.

“We’ll have to figure out another time, though,” Shaw tells her, syphoning as much guilt into her voice as she can. It isn’t much. At once, Mia’s eyes become overcast, lip pouting slightly. “We actually gotta head out.”

“You have to  _leave_?” Mia asks, brow raising in slight confusion.

“Yeah,” Shaw responds gravely. “We both have work in the morning, and if I don’t walk her home,” Shaw jerks her head back to signal Root, “she might not  _make_  it home.” Root looks at her half-finished drink from behind, and a smile fights its way onto her face.

“It’s eight o'clock,” Mia informs her flatly.

“ _Really_  early in the morning,” Shaw corrects herself with a definitive nod, and Mia sighs. Rummaging through her purse, Mia protrudes a small white card, holding it out to Shaw between two fingers.

“Well,” Mia tells her, old flare returning to her voice and a smirk on her face, “the next time you want a drink, call me. Maybe you can walk  _me_  home instead.” Shaw gives a soft chuckle at that, amused eyes not leaving Mia as she takes the card.

“Looking forward to it,” Shaw replies, then stands, pushing herself away from the bar.

“Nice seeing you again,” Root tells Mia sourly before walking off to catch up with Shaw. As Shaw heads towards the doors of the bar, she stops at a small group of men kicking back on lounge chairs. She stoops down, hand on the headrest beside a blonde man that looks about their age, cool smile on her face. After a second, he looks up to her, head lolling drunkenly to the side as he grins at her dopily.

“Can I help you?” He slurs out, eyes squinted as he barely holds them open.

“You see the woman sitting alone at the bar?” Shaw asks, steering the man’s gaze that way. He leans forward, sees her, then nods before his eyes come back to her. “She’s been checking  _you_  out all night.” At once, the man seems to somber, green eyes pulling to their full size, all hints of drunkenness wiped clean. Before he has time to ask her anything, she merely hands him Mia’s business card, patting his back and then walking away.

Root and Shaw walk from the bar, greeting the cool, fresh air as it laps at their faces. As Shaw heads down the street, she can’t help but notice Root’s wide grin and glowing eyes.

“What was  _that_  about?” Root asks her, a giddiness Shaw is almost sure has nothing to do with the alcohol in her voice. She looks over to her, studying Root’s face, unsure how to respond.

“What was what about?” Shaw questions casually, trying to swallow the butterflies that force their way through her system at just seeing Root’s smile.

“Giving her card away,” Root presses, an aura of good nature flowing from her. “I thought you  _liked_  her.”

“What ever gave you  _that_  impression?” Shaw responds with yet another question, sarcasm trimming her words. As Root’s smile falls to a serious expression, Shaw continues. “She’s okay.”

“ _Just_  okay?” Root says, more of a rhetorical question than anything else as she rolls it about in her head. “Hm.”

“You surprised?” Shaw asks her, eyes subconsciously looking Root over. As their conversation continues, Shaw feels her nerves sparking to life, magnifying every feeling six times over. Still, she keeps herself contained, coming off collected and calm. Root licks her bottom lip, smiling lightly.

“Pleasantly,” she concludes, and Shaw gives her a timid nod in response. Looking at her, Shaw can’t help but remember all the things Root had said about her in that therapy room, and all the things she said back. Like her hair. What seemed extremely futile then rings terribly true, even now, as they walk beneath the street lights. As they travel, a strand falls in front of Root’s ear, partially obscuring her face from view. Shaw can feel her hand reach up to move it- not even thinking of a single consequence- however, Root beats her to it, and Shaw’s hand falls quickly back to her side without notice. Her mind wanders farther, daring to tread in dangerous waters, as she goes over all the things she could have said. Root’s eyes, and how Shaw had never known she had a favorite color until she saw them; Root’s smile, and no matter how annoyed it could make Shaw, it also lifted her mood in any situation; Root’s mind, and how absolutely clever she is.  _There are obviously more than five things for me,_  Shaw thinks to herself, unsure how to feel about it.  _Are there more than five things for her, too?_

“Is there a reason we left so early?” Root asks after some silence, voice daring to question. It’s not as light as it was moments before; instead, she sounds utterly somber. For some reason, Shaw can’t stand it.

“Watching you get jealous is only fun for so long,” Shaw responds to her absentmindedly, trying to make it sound as natural as possible. Root’s eyes flare with interest and indignation at the response before a knowing smirk takes over her features.

“Oh,  _yeah_ ,” Root coos back, smug voice coupling with affectionate eyes. “Because you just  _love_  me jealous.” Shaw rolls her eyes as her ears redden with fluster, and she can feel her heart leaping into her throat. When she doesn’t deny Root’s accusation, Root merely laughs gleefully, then loops her arm within Shaw’s. It’s as if someone has hit her with a sledgehammer and three hundred volts, the way her chest collapses and her arm electrifies. Like every nerve ending has been heightened by Root’s touch. Still, she allows Root to keep it there without a word in protest. Shaw tries to ignore the bliss surfacing in Root’s eyes, but can’t, and so clears her throat.

“You still have that flash drive?” Shaw asks her, hoping her voice is business casual.

“Mmhmm,” Root responds, tone nearly matching Shaw’s, save for the upbeat flutter. “Why?”

“We could go through it- see what the guy’s got. Starting now could give us an early lead.”

“That could take all night,” Root warns her seriously, looking down the sidewalk. Shaw’s mouth quirks up in a smile at the response, and only grows when Root- curious as to why Shaw hadn’t said anything else- turns her gaze to her. For a second, Root sorts through the expression. Then, she brings her gaze away from Shaw, almost getting Shaw to miss the beginning of a flush that takes over her cheeks. Tilting her head forward discreetly, Shaw catches the secretive smile that grows on Root’s own face, and feels an exhilarated accelerant set fire to her heart.


End file.
